What I was made for

I wasn't made to be God. Although there's the expectation for that, I am not good enough and truthfully don't want to be. I want to be content being what I was created for: life. The gritty, dirty, confusing stuff. The stuff that is solidly imperfect and definitely me. I can't claim that anyone made it but me, the conflicts, the messes. But they're mine, I made them, and without them I would have nothing to offer Providence as a gift on an old alter. Well worn but never dusty, I use that place to get it out, all the truth and all the inward material no one wants to see or believe. All the confusion. I used to expect things to be solved there, loose ends to be tied and puzzles to find their exact place. But that's not the point- the point is for me to realize that I am the puzzle, the pieces, the process. I am not seeking to find a way out of the struggle, but the realize that my place is in it. Because it's what I was made to be.